


King Size Bed

by conceptofzero



Series: California King [1]
Category: Homestuck
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-28
Updated: 2016-02-28
Packaged: 2018-05-23 18:21:07
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,254
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6125809
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/conceptofzero/pseuds/conceptofzero
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There were half a dozen cheap motels scattered around the perimeter of Midnight City, aimed primarily at travellers and new arrivals to the city. They were shabby, unkempt and most importantly, cheap. They also had the unintentional benefit of being private places where nobody met each other's eyes and no community popped up. People didn't learn anybody's name and nobody ever came knocking to see if you wanted to go to fucking brunch together.</p><p>That made them the ideal location for an illicit romantic rendezvous.</p>
            </blockquote>





	King Size Bed

**Author's Note:**

> Written for Mimic Trippenwhitz, who requested Matchsticks/Quarters!

There were half a dozen cheap motels scattered around the perimeter of Midnight City, aimed primarily at travellers and new arrivals to the city. They were shabby, unkempt and most importantly, cheap. They also had the unintentional benefit of being private places where nobody met each other's eyes and no community popped up. People didn't learn anybody's name and nobody ever came knocking to see if you wanted to go to fucking brunch together.

That made them the ideal location for an illicit romantic rendezvous. Matchsticks had been the one to find them and to later suggest them as a possibly place for him and Quarters to use, far away from the rest of the Felt, where it was unlikely they would ever cross paths with anyone they knew. Quarters had eagerly jumped on the chance, and so, every few weeks, Matchsticks would pick one of the locations and pass it on to Quarters, along with a date and a time. 

He had arrived first (as always) in order to give the other residents a quick look-over before settling in. The carapacians gave him a wide berth, even the relatively new ones who didn't know who the Felt were quite yet. He'd booked the honeymoon suite, like usual. This one was less garish than some of the others, decorated in teals and soft pinks rather than vivid reds, and the tub was a regular one rather than the heartshaped disaster others tended to have. Most importantly, it had the biggest bed possibly, which was essential when Quarters was involved. 

Matchsticks let himself in and made himself at home, hanging up his jacket and tucking his shoes into the cubby at the front of the room. He drew the curtains and changed the sheets from the hotel's shabby ones to fresh green sheets taken from the Mansion. If they were going to spend the weekend fucking, then they were going to do it on nice sheets. 

He's tucking in the last corner when Quarters arrives, stomping into the room and slamming the door shut hard behind him. Matchsticks raises an eyebrow but doesn't ask questions. Quarters isn't going to want to talk about it. And really, Matchsticks doesn't either. They're here to get away from the annoyances they face in their day to day lives (namely, the Felt). 

Quarters has a sack of groceries with him, though judging by the clinking sound, Matchsticks knows that it's mostly booze that he's got. "Pour me a drink." 

"Fuck you," Quarters replies automatically, but he goes straight to the room's table and grabs the glasses. He mixes Matchsticks an Old Fashioned, just the way he likes it. For himself, Quarters pours straight vodka into a glass, slams it back, and pours another. Matchsticks takes out his cufflinks and sets them on the dresser, walking over to join him. 

He's two steps away when Quarters reaches out, grabbing hold of Matchsticks. One hand goes straight to his ass, squeezing it hard. "I'm going to fuck you so hard, you won't be able to walk tomorrow." 

"Yeah? That's some pretty big talk. You think you can back it up?" Matchsticks takes his drink off the table. The grip on his ass tightens up, Quarters fingers dipping into the crack of his ass. They're so big, but so is all of Quarters. That's one thing Matchsticks really likes about him. 

"You know I can." He slams back his drink. Matchsticks takes his slower, swirling it around first to make sure the sugar and bitters fully mix with the whiskey. Quarters is always a little too impatient to make them just right, but he still makes Matchsticks what he wants. And Matchsticks loves that Quarters is always willing to force himself to put effort into these little things, just to make Matchsticks happy. 

He sips his drink, tasting the quick punch of whiskey, tempered by the sugars, and then after that, the lingering of the bitters. "Show me then." 

Matchsticks has just enough time to have another long drink of it before Quarters takes hold of Matchsticks suspenders, wrapping them around his hands and dragging Matchsticks in closer. He shoves their mouths together and while it's never easy to kiss a man with a beak, they've both found a way to make it work for them, pressing their mouths tight at the base of Quarters beak. The suspenders tighten up, and then Quarters lets go, his hands shoving them off Matchsticks shoulders. "You're always so fucking smug. Look at you, like you ain't got a single worry." 

"Why should I? I'm with you." He teases and Quarters scoffs. Still, he smoothes his hands over Matchsticks chest before he begins picking at the buttons on Matchsticks' shirt. He's rough but he takes the time not to pop them off. They need to walk out of here looking as flawless as when they came in. While he handles that, Matchsticks sets his glass down and starts on Quarters' belt, drawing it out of Quarters' pants and dropping it on the floor. He pops the button with his thumb and eases the zipper down, giving himself access to what he really wants - that wonderful cock. 

"I thought I was supposed to be showing you what I can do," Quarters grumbles as Matchsticks gets his hand on him. It just makes Matchsticks laugh, and when his shirt's finished being unbuttoned, he slides it off his left arm first, giving himself another few seconds of stroking his hand along Quarters' cock before being interrupted. He reluctantly lets go and finishes getting his shirt off, setting it over the table. 

Quarters is faster with his own clothes, shucking his vest and shirt without buttoning them, yanking both items over his head and chucking them on the floor with his belt. His pants fall down and Quarters steps out of them. 

Matchsticks' pants go down easy with nothing left to hold them up. He folds his, sets them with the shirt, and puts a foot up on the chair as he starts on his garters and socks. Quarters stops him though, kneeling down in front of Matchsticks. He puts his hands on Matchsticks' ass again, both of them this time, squeezing hard enough to make Matchsticks' hips shove forward, towards Quarters' face. 

"What are you going to do down there? Finish undressing me?" Matchsticks sets a hand on Quarters' head, rubbing his thumb over the top of Quarters' skull. That gets him another incredulous sound from Quarters. Of course he doesn't get undressed. Matchsticks instead gets the delightful treat of Quarters leaning in close and rubbing his face over Matchsticks' crotch. He goes slow, gliding the edge of his beak over Matchsticks' cock before it slides away. Quarters takes his sweet time, dipping down to the top of Matchsticks thighs where he grazes his mouth along them, and then up again, over the shaft. He buries his face there, rubbing back and forth and Matchsticks has to take hold of the table, feeling himself grow hard. "Fuck, Quarters, that's right. That's what I like seeing." 

"I know what I like." His breath is hot against Matchsticks' underwear. The hands on his ass squeeze, release, stroke, squeeze, release, repeat, kneading away at the thick flesh there while Quarters has his fill of Matchsticks' dick. "You ain't let anybody else have this lately." 

"Just you." He's got other charms, sure, but not like this. Not like what he's got with Quarters. Matchsticks grins a little, letting his hips push up and rub against Quarters' face. "You'd be able to smell otherwise, with your nose buried in deep." 

"Shut the fuck up, turn around." And he lets go of Matchsticks' ass, his hands instead giving him directions to turn around. He does, putting his back to Quarters. Matchsticks takes his drink off the table and has another sip to steady himself. He can't see, but he can feel Quarters at work, his face pressing against Matchsticks' ass. The beak runs over each cheek and presses against the crack of Matchsticks' ass, nudging into it as far as he can go with fabric still in the way. He was already getting hard, but there's just something about the way he's standing now that gets him the rest of the way there, his cock tenting in his briefs. "I'm going to fuck you like this, right over the table." 

"You're going to waste a nice big bed?" He says, but he doesn't mean it, he really doesn't mean that, not when he's got Quarters rubbing his hands along Matchsticks’ sides. Those fingers dig into the top of his underwear and drag them down, pulling them slowly over Matchsticks' cheeks. He can't help but groan as the band of his underwear drags over the head of his cock too, rubbing it in just the right way. 

Then he's got them and his garters pooled around his ankles, all still attached to his socks. Quarters is kneeling behind him, his beak pressed against the bare flesh. Again, he rubs his mouth over each cheek, opening up and letting his hot tongue stroke along it. Matchsticks puts his drink down and presses his hands on either side of it, palm down, fingers spread as he waits for what comes next. 

Quarters doesn't disappoint. His hands grab hold of the cheeks and spread them wide. Quarters nudges his nose in, butting up against Matchsticks asshole. That's quickly replaced by his tongue. There's no time wasted in eating him out, that tongue first swiping across Matchsticks' entrance, and then pushing into it once it's wet enough, slowly coaxing him to open wide. It works best if he's relaxed, and Matchsticks has never been so relaxed in all his life than when Quarters is buried face first in his ass. 

"I'm never getting over how good you are at eating my ass," Matchsticks says and he wiggles his hips back, encouraging Quarters to dig in deeper. Quarters gives him a squeeze to say the message has been recieved, his mouth and tongue both getting in on the action. "You're going to have me wide open when you're done. Fuck, you'll just slide right in. I was thinking, before you came in, that if you were late again, I was going to fuck myself on my fingers while I waited, open myself up slowly on the bed while you were away. Then I wouldn't tell you until you were already going down on me, so you could find out all by yourself." 

Quarters pauses, taking that one in. He starts up again a moment later, more eagerly than before. Matchsticks groans as Quarters delves in deeper, wishing he had something to grip. He keeps them flat on the table and just lets himself enjoy this. Quarters is so determined to give Matchsticks all the attention he could ever need, but it means he's neglecting himself. So, as reluctant as he is to push him away, he finally does so, reaching behind him to nudge Quarters back. 

"What the fuck?" He snaps up at Matchsticks, but he also leans back just as he's asked to. "You don't want it anymore?"

"I do. But it's my turn to give you some attention." He gets his garters finally unclipped and steps out of his underwear, hooking his fingers into his socks to shed them too. Matchsticks nods to the bed and heads over to it, dropping to his knees at the base of it. "Come here. I've missed your dick." 

"Yeah you fucking have." Quarters has a big grin on his face and there's no more fighting as he heads to the bed, taking a seat in front of Matchsticks. He's hard, just from eating Matchsticks out, and it's not a surprise but it's always such a turn on. There's never going to be a point where Matchsticks doesn't love how Quarters gets rock hard just from touching him. He wraps a hand around that big cock in front of his face, stroking up and down the shaft just the way Quarters likes. Quarters grins and grunts a little as Matchsticks drags his thumb over the head of the cock, trailing the slickness down the shaft to make the stroking go a little smoother. "How about you fucking tell me how much you missed it?" 

"I've been dreaming about sucking you off all week long. I've been my go-to fantasy every time I settle in at night and start jerking off." Matchsticks runs his free hand along Quarters' thighs, up the inside and then to his balls, just cupping them gently and giving them a stroke too. He leans in and noses along the base of Quarters shaft, his tongue slipping out to lick him. "I kept thinking about how nice it would be if I woke up, and there you were, kneeling over me. You'd poke your cock up against my mouth, and then push in, and I'd lie there and suck you until you came in my mouth." 

"Yeah?" Quarters likes it. He really likes it. His cock's stiff and his eyes are locked on Matchsticks, like he can't bear to look away. Maybe he can't. They get so little time to themselves these days. The rest of the Felt is always in everybody else's business, like they can't bear to back off and give a guy some fucking privacy. And everybody's always guessing about each others charms or speculating. A guy can hardly make eye contact with another without people making assumptions about your charms, or what kinda hearts, rainbows or clovers you might be nursing for somebody else. 

This is the only place they can really look at each other without worrying that somebody's going to notice how they got stars in their eyes for each other. 

He's hardly teased Quarters, but teasing him is just teasing himself at this point. Matchsticks wants it as bad as he does. "Fuck yeah. I just think about tasting you and it's all I can do not to start drooling." 

And with that said, he lets himself have what he wants: that thick cock in his mouth. He parts his lips and slides the head into his mouth, Matchsticks' eyes closing at the sudden salty taste. Quarters is so warm and his cock twitches eagerly at the sudden increase of heat. He throws his head back and his hips thrust forward, and Matchsticks is quick to let the shaft of Quarters' cock go in deeper, almost right to the back of his throat. But not beyond, not yet. He's not ready to go that far when they've just gotten started. 

Matchsticks' head bobs up and down on the cock, finding a speed that works for the both of them. He tastes so good, but more than that, he tastes so familiar. Something about that gets Matchsticks' own cock throbbing too. How many times has he been on his knees, sucking Quarters off in hotel rooms like this? Enough that this feels familiar, from the way his saliva gets thick the longer and deeper his head goes, to the way the cock pulses on Matchsticks' tongue. 

"That's fucking it, that's the stuff. Fuck, suck it, suck you fucking slut. Yeah, you can't get enough of cock, can you?" Quarters put a hand on Matchsticks' face, not guiding him, but just touching him. He's saying filthy things that he knows have Matchsticks ready to squirm where he's kneeling. "Bet you wish I could fucking pull the shit Fin and Trace do, so I could rail you while you sucked me off at the same time."

Matchsticks groans and nods, and he can feel himself clench, wanting so badly to get fucked. Quarters got him ready for it and now he can't stop thinking about it, even with a cock right there in his mouth also depending on his attention. He pumps the base of Quarters cock until he's ready for it, and then he takes his fist off and lets his mouth side down as far as he can stand it, letting the thick head push against the back of his throat and then down it. Just a bit, just enough to cut off his air for a few seconds, but it's long enough to get a loud shout out of Quarters. 

He backs off to catch his breath, and soon as he does, Quarters gets two hands under his armpits and hauls him up. Their mouths meet and they kiss, bodies pressing against each other. Quarters' wet cock rubs up against Matchsticks', both sliding off each other as they end up on the bed together, naked and kissing and frotting. 

"I've been missing you," Matchsticks gasps out when they break off the kissing to breathe, their bodies still grinding up against each other. He's straddling Quarters, his hips hitching forward again and again, just grinding down against him. "I've been missing having you in my bed." 

Quarters hates sappy stuff and usually he's the first to tell Matchsticks to shut up about it. But he doesn't this time, his face twisting up a little. He gives out a small grunt, the closest he can come to a 'me too', and puts a hand on the back of Matchsticks' neck to pull him into another of those deep kisses. 

They've got plenty of time in this motel room with nothing and nobody to shake them up or bother them anyway. They can just enjoy each other's company without a single worry in the world. It's quiet here without the usual background chatter and din that fills the mansion. It's only their breathing that fills the room, and only the pulse of his own heart that fills Matchsticks ears. It's something special that they only get when they're together in these cheap hotel rooms on the edge of the desert. 

His cock's slippery now, wet with sweat and saliva and precum from Quarters. Matchsticks wants to feel it inside of himself so badly. He sits up on the bed, settling his ass against the hard cock underneath him and rubbing down against Quarters. "How badly do you want to fuck me?" 

"You're asking me how much I want it?" Quarters gives him a grin, and he flips them, turning them so Matchsticks is pinned down. He gets those big hands of his on the back of Matchsticks’ thighs and props him up. It's not the most comfortable position, being tipped up like this, but he ignores all of that once he feels Quarters fit his hips against Matchsticks ass. His cock slips right between the cleft, pressing against his cheeks and teasing Matchsticks with how close it is. Quarters doesn't let go of Matchsticks. He gets his knees settled against the small of Matchsticks back, to help him stay up and keep from falling over, and then he starts to rub himself against Matchsticks ass. It's slow, not like they could be fast when they're balanced like this, and Matchsticks lets out a frustrated little sound as he feels the shaft drag against his asshole but never push in. Quarters just keeps on smiling, like it's the funniest thing in the world. "How much do you want to feel my cock slamming into you?" 

"Fuck, you asshole," Matchsticks snaps and Quarters just lets out a big laugh. He keeps doing it though, just keeps rubbing his cock between Matchsticks cheeks. Those hands hold tight, keeping Matchsticks propped up. His weight rests on his shoulders and as he looks up, he can see his own cock tipped against his stomach, hard and damp and throbbing every few seconds. It's his pulse running through him, the steady thumping of his heart that makes him feel like his dick's going to explode if they keep at it like this. 

Quarters' cock slides in and out of view, but even when he can't see it, he can feel it rubbing against him. His beak's open and he's making all kinds of deep grunting sounds each time his hips roll forward. Matchsticks squirms, feeling desperate and needy as he tries to coax Quarters to just go on and shove in already. He's ready to go, and he's been ready since Quarters knelt behind Matchsticks and slipped his tongue into him. But he won't do it. He just keeps rubbing away, clearly waiting for Matchsticks to break first. 

He does. Having pride is great and all but right now he just wants to get fucked. "I want it. I fucking want it Quarters, I want you to put your cock in me and fuck me into the mattress. I want to feel you inside of me! My fingers aren't enough after you've been there, and I've been fucking myself on them all week long and they're not enough, I need you-" 

Quarters shifts, and the next time his hips push forward, they're pushing into Matchsticks. The head of his cock sinks in first, leaving Matchsticks groaning with sweet, sweet relief as he finally fills it start to fill him. The next movement shoves his shaft in deeper, and they both make a noise then, their voices mingling with one another. It's so fucking good that he could almost cry. He clenches hard around Quarters and wiggles his hips up, trying to get him to slide in more, to go deeper. 

There's only so much they can do in this position though, and the next thrust in, Quarters backs out and grabs the pillows off the top of the bed, shoving them all under Matchsticks’ back. Then he shifts his own knees back and pushes his cock in again, sliding nearly all of him in with one fast thrust that leaves Matchsticks crying out as he's filled up so quickly. It hurts but in the good way, in the best way that only a deep cock can. They shift a little, Matchsticks getting his legs hooked up onto Quarters shoulders, and then they're off, fucking with some real power on the hotel mattress. 

The bed creaks and groans, clearly not used to being used like this. But it holds, and Quarters holds onto Matchsticks too, his hands gripping tight to his waist as he thrusts into him. Matchsticks can't stop the sounds coming out of his mouth, hungry and needy, and he doesn't want to either. This is the only time they can even risk being this loud. 

“This what you wanted?” Quarters pants through the words. Matchsticks can’t even string together the words to say yes, just moaning and nodding. It gets him Quarters thrusting in deeper, nearly bottoming out. Matchsticks is so close and he wraps a hand around his cock, stroking himself hard and fast. Quarters just looks at him like he’s hung the moon in the sky, like Matchsticks really is the best thing he’s ever seen. And then he says it, Quarters’ voice rough and needy. “I stars you. Fuck, I stars you so much.” 

“I-i-” Matchsticks groans and then he’s coming hard, making an indistinguishable sound. He feels the cum splatter on his chest, sticky and wet, and everything from the waist down just goes white hot with pleasure. He can barely think straight with Quarters still thrusting away at him, shoving him over the line between feels good and feels too much. It just leaves him moaning out while Quarters fucks him hard. 

He gets a hand up and finally shakes his head when it’s too much to stand. Quarters pulls out in half a second, letting Matchsticks drop to the bed and then he’s crouching up over Matchsticks, jerking himself off. Matchsticks barely has any coordination after coming, but he still manages to get his hands on Quarters’ cock, replacing Quarters’ hand. He strokes him off as quickly as he can, pointing the cock at his chest. “I-I. I stars you too.” 

“Yeah, fuck yeah you do, fuck yeah, more, more fucking more-” Quarters’ hips jerk forward and between his thrusting and Matchsticks’ hands wrapped tight on either side of Quarters’ cock, they bring him to the edge too. He lets out a loud shout and Matchsticks watches eagerly as he sees the effects of the orgasm ripple through Quarters, the way his whole body goes tight and tense, and his cock surgest, pumping again and again as he comes in spurts over Matchsticks’ chest. He’s so tense and tight, and then he loosens up, going slack a few moments after his cock empties out. There’s a sticky mess all over Quarters chest and belly. He gently rubs Quarters’ cock until he’s stopped, Quarters pushing his hands away before he falls on the bed beside him. 

They’re both quiet for a long while, backs to the mattress, staring up at the ceiling. It’s nice being this quiet and comfortable, just hearing the other breathing heavily. It’s intimate in a way that it never gets in the Mansion, with so many others always around. It’s just him and Quarters here. 

When he’s recovered enough to move, he shifts up to grab some tissues off the bedstand, wiping his chest down and chucking them in the garbage. His ass is sore and he’ll be super tender come the morning. It’s not morning yet, and so Matchsticks shifts close to Quarters, settling into the nearest arm. “I stars you, shitdick.”

“I heard you the first fucking time.” Quarters rolls his eyes, but he also lifts his head, giving Matchsticks a small peck on the forehead. “Me too, asshole.”


End file.
